The second lieutenant shout into his helmet mike, “This is Sierra two-three-seven to Sierra Hotel, do you copy. Sierra two-three-seven, two-three-nine and two-three-four, disabled by enemy action. Sierra Hotel, do you copy!”

A wall of smoke surrounded him.

The acrid smell of burning tires suffused his nostrils.

“I repeat this is Sierra two-three-seven-”

A roar pierced his eardrums.

Time slowed down.

WOOOAROOOAR!

A giant of a man, clad in red war paint and animal skins pounced from the dark fog. He grabbed a private like a rag doll.

He hit the soldier on the throat with a bat lined with teeth.

Blood spurted from the wound.

Another roar erupted from the darkness.

In a flash of white teeth, the giant jumped back in the black.

“Sierra Hotel to Sierra two-three-seven, we copy,” crackled the voice on the radio.